Greetings Earthlings,
I'm labeling this chapter as reluctance, but will be moving new chapters to bdsm. Enjoy!
Absolutely nobody noticed when Oakley returned, giving her the perfect opportunity to snatch her purse, ditch this stupid sweater, and sneak past Anne from HR without getting any grief.
She threw on her jacket and left through the backdoor of the office, taking a deep inhale of the fresh crisp air.
Oakley puffed on the oil pen continuously on her walk. She knew she was in shock, and in a few hours the panic would set in. Getting as high as possible, as fast as possible seemed like a great way to think of literally anything other than what just happened.
Oakley made it to her apartment, an ancient building in the shabbier bit of downtown. She had not even noticed it had been snowing until she reached for the brass door knob.
Oakley swung the door open, relieved she had made a successful escape. Anne hadn't called her. Hopefully in the morning she wouldn't even remember. She kicked off her shoes and undressed as she made her way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind her. While soaking in the hottest water she could endure, she let herself slowly start to reevaluate the most recent events.
What the absolute fuck had he been doing when he left Veniceville? Whatever happened back there, that was not the
real
Jett. What the hell happened to him? And what did he call her again? Mistress. That's right. But she didn't exactly know what that was.
She searched 'mistress' on her phone. 'A woman In a position of authority and control' or 'a woman involved in an affair'.
Oakley highly doubted he was in any relationship. The flood of gossip that spread through town when he returned would have provided that significant piece of information.
Oakley mulled over it.
'So Jett put me in a position of control, eh?'
she thought, giggling at the absurdity.
After a lifetime of snarky insults and constant teasing, the chances of him having been sincere seemed low.
Although, could that be
why
he teased her? Did he want her to retaliate? Is that why when she yelled at him he never stopped her? Or why he smiled every time she slapped him? And was she a complete fucking moron for not thinking this sooner?
"Shit," she cursed.
Although there was still a very high chance he was just toying with her, setting her up for another one of his sadistic tricks. Gossiping never stopped after school, it just became a lot more explicit. Who's to say pranks wouldn't go the same way.
Oakley tapped the sill of the bathtub with her nails and decided to do some online exploring.
She knew some men liked to be dominated, which is assuming what this could all mean, but because she had never experienced it, it still felt unreal, as if it could only happen in a galaxy far away. No one she knew had talked about partaking in this fetish.
"Okay this is fine," she said, scrolling through a webpage on the subject.
"This isn't so bad. That's fine. A little bit much actually. Wait- my GOD that is some nasty porn" she gasped and quickly exited the page. Her heart raced.
But she took a deep breath and kept exploring. With Jett in mind specifically, this kink was starting to become attractive.
Oakley thought of his smug face. She craved to unleash all her anger out on him. The best part was he wouldn't rat her out. This was all voluntary. He'd have to listen to her then. He couldn't be a raging jackass if she was in charge.
If this is what he was trying to get from her, she was more than willing. She wanted to hear him beg for her forgiveness.
All of this made her uneasy, as if just these twisted thoughts would send her to hell. It's not that any of it was inherently wrong, she respected the women that could do this. But she never thought she, of all people, would ever have these desires.
This was not like anything she'd done before, and even though it disturbed her, it was exciting. Giving him a taste of his own bitter medicine would be intoxicatingly satisfying.
The more she read, the more invested she became. Thankfully it was now Christmas weekend, and she didn't have to face him for the next few days. She spent some time with her family, and ran her menial errands. When she wasn't doing that, she was in bed with her laptop, doing extensive research on how to be a Mistress, and how to torture your victim.
She read forums, erotica, watched porn, anything she could find that would let her take out her anger on Jett.
Oakley always thought being a woman means needing to be submissive. She enjoyed being submissive. Never had she thought what it would be like the other way around. It was becoming fascinating.
It started seeming less and less far fetched as time went on. She had to know if this is what he wanted. She wanted this more than anything. Not for any sexual desire, the thought of that still made her sick, but for her long awaited revenge.
By the end of the weekend she already developed a plan. It was very loosely tied together, but nonetheless she desperately needed to know as soon as possible.
She sighed, bitterly aware of how uneducated she still was on the subject.
"I better be right, because if I'm not, I am
never
going to live this down. God this is embarrassing." She groaned.
On Monday Oakley put in her headphones and walked to work with excess confidence, sneakily smoking the oil pen on the way. It was lightly snowing again, but the cold didn't sting. It was just enough to keep her from sweating profusely from the anticipation of his real intentions.
She hadn't realized how early she had come in, because the aftermath of the Christmas party had not changed in the slightest. Her heart thumped in her chest as she began to pick up the scattered office supplies that littered the floor.
Every time someone walked into the office she felt herself holding her breath, but was disappointed repeatedly when it wasn't Jett.
While simultaneously trying to drink her cup of coffee, she stood on a chair and began yanking the folded paper stars out of the ceiling tiles.
